forgive us of our sins (as we must forgive those who sin against us)
by until-the-stars-die
Summary: Emily Prentiss has gone too far for too long, her mother'd had enough. She's shipped off to the States under her father's supervision to a reform school in hopes it will stop her teenage rebellion. But how can she get better when HE'S around every corner, when he's right behind her..? (AU / bad at summaries) (DISCLAIMER: i don't own any of the characters used) (TW later chapters)
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: ****this story is a rewrite of one titled "Believe in Salvation" by bootsontheground. Please check out their story!**

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The early morning sun harshly struck her eyes, promptly irritating the dull throb that had began to fester in her head. Hungover and disgraced, Emily dragged her feet towards the sleek black SUV parked outside the police station. Had it not been for the tight hand of an officer roughly guiding her towards the vehicle, or the nervous woman shifting foot to foot beside it, Emily may have missed it. May have.

_But she knew better than that. Her mother wasn't happy. _

"Wow, she really splurged on this one didn't she." It wasn't a question as much of a bitter chuckle as the raven haired teen shrugged herself free from the officer. He merely frowned and turned to the woman.

"Tell Ambassador Prentiss to have a better hold on her daughter. We have people who actually need the cells, and there's only so many times the chief is willing to wipe her record." With that he turned on his heel and walked back inside, leaving them alone.

"How pissed is she this time, huh? What's my punishment? Cut allowance? _Grounded _for a couple weeks? Banned from my phone?" Emily took the coffee cup that was offered to her and took a sip. It scalded her throat and was far too bitter but she didn't care, it was coffee after all. A little milk and sugar wouldn't have hurt though. She arched a brow as she looked the assistant up and down in wait of a response.

"Your mother requested you go to reform school. You leave as soon as possible - your stuff is in a car at home." Her eyes never met Emily's. That was the usual; all of her mother's assistant hated being on pick-up duty for her. They all regarded her as the spoiled child trying to gain attention by her deviant tendencies. They weren't wrong. Emily found it funny, really, that some of them were intimidated of her. There had been numerous times where assistants had quit in order to avoid her, or because of her _playful __banter_.

"_Reform school_?" Emily snorted, "You can't be serious? I was thinking by now it would be a military grade place ya know? Teach me some 'real values' or whatever she drones on about half the time." Her relationship with her mother had never been truly golden. An esteemed political identity, Elizabeth Prentiss had often found herself with no time to truly dote over her daughter, resulting in Emily being passed off into the hands of countless nannies or sometimes her father. Even so, the Ambassador's expectations had been ridiculously high with the hope that one day her child would follow in her footsteps. That didn't go to plan. After the divorce with Emily's father, Senator Schuller, Elizabeth had to watch in helplessness as her daughter rebelled even further. No amount of boarding schools, summer camps, or home discipline had squashed that deviant spirit much to her dismay. This was a final leap as Emily inched closer to eighteen.

In the past few years her delinquency had been enough to get arrested. Of course the record was always wiped (having plenty of money and corrupt cops tended to help that) and the punishment would range in severity (sometimes she was shipped off to her father, those were the times Emily hated the most; Schuller was a strict man, worse than her mother, and he was cruel.. he was the only person who managed to break her spirit even a little). And every time she would emerge the next morning to a plain cab and an assistant ready to lecture her on the drive home. It was never one of the lavish embassy cars, her mother would never risk the shame of being seen picking up her criminal daughter.

"Get in, Ambassador Prentiss is waiting." A slight stammer was evident in her tone, only making Emily snicker more. This woman was terrified. Was she really that bad?

"Sorry sorry - Amy is it?" Did Emily know that wasn't her name? Yes. Did she care? No, she enjoyed messing with people.

"Ashley." The assistant couldn't have been more than twenty-five, barely older then herself. She was timid and quiet, average blonde hair and average blue eyes with average height and average weight. She was extraordinarily average in Emily's eyes. This must have been the job of a lifetime for someone like her. Sure, being an assistant wasn't that great, but being the assistant of an Ambassador meant that at least she was paid a pretty penny and taken care of. Sometimes Emily wondered if her mother cared more for her workers than her own daughter, it really wouldn't surprise her.

"Okay, _Ashley_, thank you _ever _so much for the coffee, I really do appreciate it." Emily put on a wide, fake grin and even nudged the other woman as she climbed into the car. The journey back was uneventful. All she could really do was stare out the window at the views rolling past. The beauty of Russia had long since washed over her, now it was just the same old towns and the same old people. At least they would move again soon. They always did. She'd gotten used to never calling one place home. Before she knew it she was in the wide space of the lounge, waiting for her mother to turn around from the large arch window.

"Hey-"

"Save it." Elizabeth cut her off sharply, not turning to focus her attention on her daughter, "I've had enough of this, Emily, I'm fed up of dealing with your insolent, attention-seeking behaviour. If you want to behave like a child having a tantrum, I will treat you as such."

"Oh, so shipping children off is the way to deal with them?" was the snarky response, followed by a bitter scoff and a roll of her eyes - of course invisible to her mother. This was the routine. Get arrested, get taken home, get lectured, get punished.

It was Elizabeth's time to scoff.

"You sicken me sometimes, Emily, I would never have treated my mother the way you treat me. Pack your bags. You're Boyd's problem now." At long last she turned and glared at the teenager with a look only akin to pure disdain. Emily's blood turned cold.

"Wait, you're shipping me off to the States? To _him_? Mom that's not fair, I-"

"Get a move on. A car is coming to collect you shortly." There was no emotion there anymore. She really had crossed the line. The rejection caused the oh so regular rage to bubble once more in her stomach and Emily gritted her teeth.

"Fine." She stormed out and ignored the sense of hurt that flooded her system. Of course she still didn't like her mother, not in the slightest, but at least that woman was more bearable than her father. Dread pitted her stomach at the thought of facing Senator Schuller.

When the car - this one actually one of the nice ones - pulled away from the grand manor, Emily shut her eyes and let herself melt into the leather.

* * *

Her welcome-back to America didn't go as smoothly as one could wish. During the ten hour flight, she'd fallen into a restless sleep as she often did. Her mother had sent yet another person to make sure she didn't stir up too much trouble on the aircraft, and this man had been a little too interested in her. Emily was flirtatious, yes, but only to people she found attractive (you know, as most people do) and sadly for this guy she did not find potent body odor endearing at all. And then, to top it all off, when walking off the plane she happened to stumble and fall - quite literally - into yet another man Elizabeth had sent for her. She didn't mind too much, he had nice arms.

"Welcome back to the States, Miss." said Mr NiceArms, helping her stand with a polite smile, "Your mother requested I escort you to your new school, if the traffic is good we should arrive in time for supper." They had missed the first flight due to the traffic on the way to the airport, and now her arrival was far later than originally planned.

"Gee, I can't wait." Perhaps Emily was grouchy because she hadn't slept well, or perhaps she was grouchy because her mother had quite literally sent her away to another _continent_ to 'get better'. Rude. Either way, sarcasm rolled off her tongue as she was directed to yet another car. She wasn't a fan of travelling and often found herself sick after too long.

"Are you excited for your journey to redemption?" Mr NiceArms asked around five minutes into the journey, breaking her peaceful silence. Emily didn't respond for a little while, not even when she could sense him watching her expectantly. What teenager was happy to move across the world to go to what was probably a God-loving school (not that she had anything against religion) where they would preach all about how she will be forgiven if she admits her wrongdoings? Hopefully they would at least have a lot of little nooks and crannies where she could slip in a cigarette to distract her.

"I hear the school is relatively small in order to work on a more personal level with the students," he continued on, seemingly unfazed by her blatant disregard for his presence (this guy apparently couldn't take a hint, Emily thought), "So if you dislike large groups it should be good. I imagine not many people go there anyway because of the price. You know, your mother-" Emily lost interest after that and his voice merged with the background noise. She watched other cars passing by through the window, almost hoping she could map the way in her mind in order to run away if needed.

_Her father would probably get in contact soon._ She pressed her forehead to the cool glass. Nausea swirled in her stomach, the familiar acidic burn teasing her throat as her hand flew to her stomach, ready.

"We're here." _Phew_. She'd never scrambled out of a car so quickly, gulping in the fresh air and washing away the previous threat of vomit. Mr NiceArms was beside her in an instant, her duffel bag over one shoulder and suitcase in hand. He wore that same smile that he'd had from the start and she couldn't help but notice how he resembled a Ken doll.

Behind them stood two ornate gates that looked to require a code or acceptance from the security guard to pass through (that put a stop to her escape plan). In front of them stood what Emily could only call an old style manor house/mansion style building surrounded by the most naturally green grass she had ever seen. Beautifully trimmed hedges lined the grounds and she could spot multiple flowerbeds thriving beautifully, and some trees further off. Hopefully there was more to do inside. Mr NiceArms took the lead and began walking towards the large front doors, her suitcase rolling loudly over the gravel. This would be okay surely, it could be worse. Emily followed after him, something akin to anxiety building within - not that she would ever admit such a thing. She was Emily Prentiss, she didn't fear or care about anything.

"_Per - perdonak - perd.._" Mr NiceArms (she never bothered to ask his name) was butchering whatever quote he was squinting at. Above the doorway was a sign embellished with a quote in small cursive. Emily instantly recognised it as Italian. She allowed her mother's friend to continue struggling for a few moments before cutting in: it got annoying after a while.

"_P__erdonaci I nostri peccati, così come dobbiamo anche perdonare coloro che peccano contro di noi_." She recited effortlessly, smirking at his confusion, "Forgive us our sins, just as we must also forgive those who sin against us. It's one of the variations of a line from the Lord's Prayer." Great, she was correct about it probably being a God-loving place. _Fun_.

"Ah of course, you are your mother's daughter I suppose - I'm not surprised she taught you Italian. She speaks it rather well, a _wonderful _woman Elizabeth is, eh?" For a second an amused smile twitched at his lips, the look in his eyes one of a man lost in memories. "You remind me of her." A slight glance up and down her.

_Gross_. Was this guy in love with her mother or something? Did he just hit on her? Just to get away from him, Emily hurriedly knocked on the door. She would take Jesus over this an any day, and to think he hadn't seemed too bad just minutes ago. As she waited she tried to imagine the type of person to answer the door; her mind conjured images of a thin, strict woman dressed in a sharply creased shirt tucked neatly into a too-long pencil skirt. Her graying hair would be pulled into a tight bun with no tendril out of place, and her face would be reminiscent of an old crone with beady hawk's eyes and stiff lips pressed in a thin line.

Oh how wrong she was.

There was a distant shout and then the door opened to reveal a man, simply a man, but what took her aback was the warmth that seemed to radiate from him. His hair and goatee were neatly trimmed, and his clothes were clearly smart, yet a fatherly kindness shone in his eyes and his sleeves were messily rolled up. An apron was tightly fastened around him donning the phrase "Who needs a recipe when you're Italian!" and the colors of the country's flag.

"You must be Emily! You're slightly later than we expected, but please come on in, you're just in time for dinner!"

"I'll let your parents know you arrived safely." Emily watched as Mr NiceArms shrugged her bag off his shoulder, surprised when Mr ItalianApron offered to take it from him. Her mother's friend shot her one final grin and then walked away, leaving Emily gazing between his back and the open front door.

She took her first step inside.

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_A/N: I apologise if the Italian is wrong, I am not Italian nor do I speak (or know anyone who does) Italian so I have to rely on the untrustworthy Google Translate. If you speak Italian please correct me in the comments and I will update!_


	2. Chapter 2

**TW: mention of calorie counting/worrying, mild mention of adult hurting a child.**

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Scents of home cooked food invaded her senses as Emily was led through a hallway, unsure how to talk to this man - or if she was even supposed to. Sure he'd seemed nice when coming to the door, but maybe that was an act for those dropping off their children so they believed they would be in good hands. For all she knew, Mr ItalianApron was some strict authoritarian who believed that harsh punishment equaled a changed person. It was a reform school after all, right? There was distant chatter mixed with the clashing of cutlery on porcelain plates from what she assumed was the dining area. How many people were there? NiceArms had said it was a small school, though that could be a relative thing. She'd been in a boarding school that considered itself "small" before despite having thousands of students.

"Right through here, take a seat and I'll make up an extra plate for you." They had arrived at the dining room. Several tables were set out, each with a few clusters of students. It really was small, there couldn't have been more than twenty of them here. The far table at the back seemed to seat the staff, not that there were many of those either. The table closest to her was the only one with a free seat. She wasn't sure whether they would allow her there or not, but even so she walked over, brave face plastered on. What was the worst that could happen? Upon coming closer she overheard their conversation and arched a brow in amusement. A slightly plumper blonde with colourful streaks in her hair was talking a thousand miles a minute across the table to a slender, nervous looking boy whose unruly mop of tousled hair kept falling over his angular face. They seemed to be in a heated debate with the rest of the table about the scientific inaccuracies of Doctor Who. _Great, she was going to be stuck with the nerds_.

"But it isn't meant to be accurate, it's supposed to be entertaining!" Another girl piped up. Her hair was similar to the first's, minus the curls and colourful streaks. She was noticeably the most petite out of this little gang. It appeared as if the nervous boy was going to passionately respond when he fell silent, eyes staring straight at Emily. The others turned to follow his gaze and suddenly all attention was on her.

"Oooh newbie!" The first girl jumped abruptly up, hurrying over to greet Emily excitedly. Right as her arms were about to wrap around her in what Emily was afraid was a hug, a pair of muscled arms found their way around the blonde's middle, restraining her. A silent sigh of relief from Emily. Hugs weren't her thing.

"Easy, baby." It was one of the guys from the table. He was tall and well built, dark hair trimmed in a buzz cut, "We don't know her." One look told Emily all she knew about this boy: he did not trust her and wasn't enthused at her presence either, like so many people in her life. 'Baby' moved back to her seat with a dejected expression, still facing Emily when she sat down though.

"We don't get many newcomers." The same boy continued on, standing between her and the table, "What's your name?"

"Derek, let her sit down." Miss PetiteBlonde nudged him, "She's probably nervous to be here, just like we all are."

"Sorry, I don't get nervous." Emily sauntered past _Derek _and took the empty place at the table. It was her right, she was a student here now and she wasn't going to let some faux alpha male performance scare her off. She'd faced worse than him. Her actions only seemed to piss him off further as he stomped over to his own seat with a glowering stare.

"What's your name?" Derek repeated with a scowl, tapered brows furrowed deep into a frown.

"None of your business." Emily retorted with a matching sneer, leaning back a little in the chair. If she was being forced to attend this hellhole she was at least going to have her fun. Out of the corner of her eye she saw ItalianApron enter the room with a steaming plate in his hands. Spaghetti and some kind of meat sauce. It smelled delicious and she felt her stomach grumble as the realisation that she hadn't eaten all day set in.

"Everything okay here?" ItalianApron set the plate down in front of her and Emily dug in straight away, ignoring the others around her. Her mother's words floated around her mind, '_look at how unladylike you are.' _and _'I'll get the trainer in, you're putting on a bit aren't you?'_ but for once Emily didn't care. Her mouth was watering and her stomach was an unleashed beast.

"She's unwelcome on this table, Rossi, we don't want her." Derek stated bluntly, his arms folding over his chest in annoyance. "She has no respect for our wishes and she's rude."

"Well I wouldn't be so rude if you didn't act like a fucking guard dog." Emily was too interested in shoveling sauce-covered pasta into her mouth to notice the way Rossi tensed nor the way the table suddenly fell completely silent. Cuss words were usually forbidden in her house (not that it stopped her) and she wouldn't dare say them in front of her father (she'd made that mistake one too many times). It was part of her defence, a way of warding off unwanted visitors.

"Emily, that language is not tolerated here."

"So that's your name? You even _sound _spoiled." Content with getting the only thing he'd needed answered, Derek took his seat once more and continued eating. Emily ignored him. She was good at doing that.

"So what?" It was aimed at Rossi, "I have to deal with this bullshit just because I'm new? That's unfair, I refuse to deal with him whining like a little bitch." At this point, had she been home, Elizabeth would have threatened her with washing her mouth out with soap - something that she once had been subjected to. It wasn't pleasant. Had she been with her father, well, Emily didn't want to think about that.

"May I speak with you in the kitchen?" Despite his calm tone, it was plainly obvious that it was a gentle order and Emily scraped her seat back to follow him out of the room, feeling students and teachers alike watch as they left. Her entrance to this school had been as bad as her entrance to this country apparently, and as she walked the short distance with Rossi she pondered what he was going to say? Was this nice guy going to just going to be a facade? Was he secretly exactly like Senator Boyd Schuller, the only person who truly instilled fear within her?

The kitchen was surprisingly large and well stocked with gadgets neatly lining the pristine marble counters. Two sleek steel ovens were placed right next to each other and part of her was surprised at how top-of-the-range they looked - it was similar with the large fridges and freezers, everything seemed to b top of the range. It all came into place: _that's _why her mother sent her here, it was a school that had serious money and funding. Elizabeth had still wanted her daughter in a place not many could afford, that way no ordinary person could sell the sensational story of the Ambassador's daughter being a delinquent criminal. She hesitantly leaned against one of the cabinets, still gazing around the room and taking everything in.

"It's nice right? This kitchen is my pride and joy." Rossi moved to the oven, peering through the small glass screen as he checked on something obstructed from Emily's view. He opened the oven door and a tantalizing whiff of chocolate wafted her way as he withdrew a large cake tin. Her mouth watered again, but she shook her head. Elizabeth had made it clear what she thought of such things. Too much sugar, too much fat, too many calories.

"Now, I imagine you're angry you're here right?" At her silence, he started speaking again, gauging her reaction, "Most of the kids are. I imagine your background didn't help hm? I know both your parents, old friends of mine, and I'm assuming neither is too thrilled about your.. behaviour?"

"Not too thrilled is an understatement." Emily rolled her eyes, "My mother can't stand me and my father well.. our feelings are mutual." Hatred. Unbridled hatred. She had never truly hated someone with her entire being before him. And yet she still found herself striving to impress him when she could. When Schuller organised meetings Emily made sure to be on time and well dressed, made sure she was presented as this darling little doll. Why? Because disobeying wasn't worth the punishment. Before Rossi could respond, Emily ploughed on.

"What type of reform school is this? You guys seem too nice. I thought these places were supposed to be full of punishment or whatever?" That elicited a warm chuckle.

"We do not believe in punishing unless absolutely called for, and even then we would ensure that it was not too harsh. This school focuses on _helping_. All of our staff members are trained in counselling, and thus have one-to-one sessions with students as well as the everyday lessons of school - you'll get your schedule soon. The way we see it, punishment does not teach one how to act, it simply teaches them how _not _to act. Harsh punishment is futile in my eyes." She breathed a silent sigh of relief. Good. If harsh punishment had been a foundation at this school she would be screwed. Nothing this far had ruined her spirits, it wasn't so easy to squash her demons.

He seemed nice, even so, and she felt what could only be a twinge of guilt in her stomach, something she didn't experience often.

"I'm sorry for swearing, Mr..?"

"Rossi, or Dave or even David. I would say anything, but - uhh - kids are creative and that's opening a can of worms." Another warm chuckle. Emily liked this man; that was even rarer than her feeling guilt.

"I'm sorry for swearing, Rossi." It was genuine, and a gentle smile in her direction gave her all she needed to know. _You're forgiven_. This school apparently evoked a variety of rare experiences for her. Forgiveness, apologising, _liking _people? Strange.

"Now, do you want to help me decorate this cake? It's Dr Lewis' birthday today, and I heard chocolate is her favourite." A piping bag was offered to her and for a second, Emily thought that maybe, _just maybe_, her life would be better here.

* * *

Dessert had went well, they had sung happy birthday to Dr Lewis - she was one of the staff at the larger table, a tall woman with short black hair and smart pantsuit; she would have reminded Emily of her mother had it not been for the bright smile on her face at the sight of the candles. Emily had even joined in the singing, albeit remaining at a small distance away from everyone else. She was clearly unwelcome in the eyes of Derek and didn't want to intrude. _She didn't need them anyway, she was a lone wolf_. That's what she told herself. However, when the petite blonde girl from earlier (who Emily had learned was named JJ) pulled her into the group, ignoring Derek's look, she didn't stop her.

The socialising came to an end for her when they all sat down to watch movies. Some of the kids decided they would rather do different activities, such as reading or - in a lot of the older boys' cases, slouching around the corridors and laughing at any student who passed. Teenage boys sucked; Emily had learned that a long time ago, the majority she'd encountered were just horny assholes who just wanted to do her, play video games, and thought taking drugs and having a nicotine addiction made you cool. Therefore she wasn't expecting anything more from them when the catcalls followed her down the hallway from a couple of them. Movie nights weren't her thing, and so Emily had planned to find some quiet place to smoke one of the cigarettes she'd smuggled in. A torrent of "hey New Girl!" and "where you goin'?" mixed with whistles hit her as she sauntered past the small group.

"I'm going wherever you're not." was her exasperated answer, not even looking at them over her shoulder. A satisfied smirk crept to her lips when they were reprimanded just seconds later by the voice she recognised as Dr Lewis. '_Serves them right." _Emily said to herself, turning a corner away from the commotion. Now where to go? She didn't actually know the layout of the school yet, she hadn't been assigned an official buddy to guide her and show where everything was. Oh well, it meant more adventure for her. She chose to walk towards the metal sign that stated the garden was up ahead. Fresh air, that's what she needed. No one to smell the smoke.

The gardens were even bigger than she thought. Other buildings were spotted around the grass, one looking rather church like. She stayed away. Emily wandered aimlessly, taking it all in as she brought the cigarette to her lips and lit it. Contraband. If caught she'd be in trouble: the very idea sent a shock of adrenaline tingling through her spine. What was life without a little rebellion, right?

She took a deep inhale, held for a beat, and then watched the smoke trail from her lips.

"You- You know that smoking is pro-prohibited on these grounds, right?" It was the nerdy-looking boy from earlier, the one going on about the inaccuracies of Doctor Who. Emily arched a brow. Where the hell did he spring from?

"Are you gonna tell on me?" To prove her point, she took another long drag and let it seep out from her lips once more. He fiddles with his sleeves.

"I-I should." When she looks at him, he immediately looks away, blinking several times. His behaviour piqued her interest.

"Why are you here, kid? You're what? Twelve?"

"Twelve, and three months." he corrected, still not looking at her. That made her smile.

"Sorry, sorry, twelve and three months. How did you end up here, you look like you couldn't harm a fly."

"I wouldn't," He shook his head seriously, "Flies are important to the food chain, they act as prey to a variety of animals and even fishermen have started studying the feeding habits of their game fish in order to understand which flies to use as bait. I couldn't kill a fly. Without flies there would be a notable gap in the chain and force predators to-"

"Okay, I get it, I apologise for implying you would harm one." Her interest stayed high. She'd never heard a kid speak with such clarity and seriousness. Who was this kid? There was no way he belonged here.  
"But for real, why are you here?"

"Father said I was a bad boy." A solemn expression crossed his face, little brows knitting together, "He said I don't listen to what he says and that I am trying to annoy him by asking him questions." A pause. "It isn't my fault - I didn't understand some things he said. One time he said it was raining cats and dogs, but it really wasn't and I kept asking him why he lied, but he got mad and pushed me away. I got a bruise on my knee when he did that. It hurt a lot, but he didn't like it when I cried, it made him more mad and said it was my own fault." That struck a chord in her. His father hurt him? And then blamed him for doing it? Emily found her blood starting to boil, memories of her own father's sour moods flashing through her mind.

"So he sent you to this place for asking questions? Seems like a fucking ass." The words slipped from her tongue without thought, a natural instinct. It wasn't as if she was lying, was it? He was, but the quiet gasp that was returned from the boy reminded her where she was and of Rossi's words earlier.

"Profanity also isn't.. profanity also isn't all-allowed." He stammered, frowning even more. If he was attempting to look mad he was failing, he looked more like an angry puppy. It was kind of fun to press him further, just a little.

"Oh well, _fuck _the rules, right?" Emily shrugged, flicking the ash off the end of the cig. It sprinkled over the darkened grass, embers quickly dying without anything to cling and light to. Everything has to die some day. The boy's cheeks flushed bright red, and his blinking became frantic once more, weight shuffling constantly foot to foot.

"You - you shouldn't.. you shouldn't s-say that." He seemed genuinely distressed and something akin to that guilt she felt earlier came back. He was a kid and he'd already had a hard life, she shouldn't make it any worse.

"He's right, you shouldn't say that." Another voice? Seriously? How many people were creeping up on her? "And you should also stop smoking." Emily whirled around and came face to face with yet another new face. This boy was tall and smartly dressed, his hair neatly parted and his shoes clearly polished. His face wore a sharp, yet not angry, expression as he regarded the pair.

"Spencer," The new man ignored her presence, "They're about to start watching Night at the Museum, JJ saved a seat for you. Hurry along now." The slightest of smiles reached his lips as he sent the boy on his way.

And then his attention switched to Emily.

"I'm Aaron Hotchner, regarded often as the Head Boy, despite that not being an official role here. If you're going to disobey the rules, at least be secretive about it. When you're right out here anyone will see you, as I did, and thus you're more liable to be reported, as I'm about to do." His manner of speaking oozed with superiority and it caused her features to harden. Emily did not strike well with authority, least of all those who acted superior when they were clearly her age.

"Well, Aaron Hotchner, I don't care about whether you're seen as the Head Boy, nor do I care about your love of rules or how you're apparently going to report me. I do not and will not care." Her manner unfazed him. He simply put a hand on her shoulder and began leading her inside. Not too harshly, but with enough insistence and speed that she didn't have a chance to disagree. Emily merely stomped her feet, reminiscent of a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. They only stopped at an ornately carved wooden door.

'_David Rossi' _was imprinted on the small metal sign. Great. Second time today and she doubted he would be as kind this time round.

"Come in." Rossi called from inside. Entering the office, Aaron finally released his grip on her shoulder and Emily shrugged him away. She wasn't surprised at the beauty of this room. Old books made up the varnished oak bookshelves that lined both sides of the room, his desk alone probably cost more than a reasonable amount. It was mahogany, definitely pricey (her father had one similar), and hosted an array of knickknacks ranging from a beautifully painted globe model, to several cards clearly made by an infant. Grandchild, maybe?

"Ah, Emily, Aaron, I was wondering when you would turn up. Spencer already popped in to warn me."

"She was caught smoking and swearing in the gardens, in the presence of Spencer, Rossi." Aaron's arms were folded over his chest and Emily suppressed a laugh: he was mirroring Derek's stance from earlier. Wow, something about her made these guys really feel the need to cross their arms, huh?

"I know, Aaron, and Emily and I have already had a little chat about this behaviour, haven't we Emily?" A pointed look. She nodded.

"Yep, sorry Aar-Bear." Her voiced was laced with fake pity, "Dave already gave me the lecture so I'll be on my way." Emily strode over and patted his cheek gently, ignoring his clear look of distaste, and promptly left the office. Dave hid a smirk.

"Aren't you going to reprimand her?" Aaron said in disbelief, glancing between the now-closing door and his superior. Aaron Hotchner was a man of order, routine, and following rules. Disruption to his ideals annoyed him greatly.

"Let it be, Aaron, everyone learns in different ways. Emily will not learn her lesson through punishment, I can assure you." Rossi shook his head at the boy, well aware of his irritation. The world worked in mysterious ways, and he'd noted the way Emily had looked at Aaron with an all-too obvious interest. It was a forming idea, not even developed yet, but he had a nagging feeling that maybe they would help each other in due time, they would be good for each other.

Aaron clearly didn't think so, calmly (though clearly still pissed off) exiting the office and letting the door fall loudly shut behind him.

* * *

**A/N: **_reviews are greatly appreciated for ways of bettering my style and story :)_


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